


Life's too short to even care at all

by orphan_account



Category: Free!
Genre: College AU, Kinda, M/M, character study sorta, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1440226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About being afraid, growing up and Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life's too short to even care at all

**Author's Note:**

> Simple and light-hearted. Hope you enjoy it!!

“Are you afraid of being alone?”

The question comes out of nowhere and it’s not an easy one. Makoto tilts his head and crosses his legs on the bench, thinking about it.

“Aren’t we all?” He answers, clicking his tongue. He’s not sure about why Haru is asking him that or what he means. He does that often enough, wants to know what Makoto thinks about this or that and his questions tend to be about things that are difficult to grasp. Haru hums, mutters something and takes a deep breath.

“I meant isolation, exclusion,” Haru pauses and considers what he’s trying to say. The concept sounded easy enough before he started talking about it but now that he’s trying to shape it into an idea it’s starting to get complicated. “The feeling of being alone without choosing to be.”

Makoto nods and looks up at the sky. It’s still not an easy question. Who doesn’t dislike feeling isolated? Almost everything we do is about not being excluded, he knows that much…but to what extent is he afraid of it he has no idea, he has never thought about it.

“I don’t know, Haru. I was during high school, probably,” he realizes, as he talks, that that much is true. He was afraid of rejection then, anxious about whether or not everyone was going to leave. “I guess that it would explain why I tried to be nice all the time.”

He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t try to take the edge off of it because it’s kind of true. Introspection is needed sometimes and after these years he sees that he was insecure. He was a teenager in the middle of random states of crisis, as was every other person at one time. And he chose to fight his anxiety, his fear of being alone, with more kindness that was strictly necessary. Haru doesn’t laugh either. He sounds pleased when he talks, as if he’s found something that he’s been looking for.

“We try to make people like us so we won’t be alone,” Haru says and takes a deep breath “Or we shut everyone out before they can hurt us when they leave.”

As melodramatic as it sounds, Makoto gets it. When he was younger he was, sometimes, so eager to please that it was absurd. He grew out of it, little by little, and by the end of the last year of high school he wasn’t as afraid anymore. His emotions were a mess for a while and so were Haru’s, he recalls. They were afraid of the world, afraid of losing their purpose in life and afraid of being alone.

They said things that tied them together and only later discovered how wrong it was to try to work that way. Helping each other grow didn’t mean being unable to breath when the other wasn’t there. It’s difficult to understand when you’re fifteen and everything feels so intense that most of the time you want to shut every emotion off, but they’re 24 now and they know better.

They’ve matured, or so they like to think.

“I was afraid of…freedom? I think?” Makoto adds, tapping his chin. “Decisions aren’t easy when you’re so young, I suppose.”

Haru chuckles then, only a little.

“You know what I was most afraid of? Life being pointless,” Haru scratches his chin, purses his lips “What was the meaning of life? Why are we here? What will happen when I’m ordinary? That kind of thing.”

Makoto doesn’t know why that’s funny, but waits until Haru sighs and huffs.

“Those are existential fears. Existential anxiety, whatever,” he says and Makoto thinks that the concept sounds familiar, that he’s heard about it in class, but can’t pinpoint what Haru is talking about. “Our teacher talked about existential therapy today, about how we try to please others to avoid being alone and how we stop trying when our life seems devoid of purpose.”

Haru likes to talk about those things and Makoto laughs a bit, just a tiny bit, at how insightful he can be. At how out of all the people he knew back then Haru ended up being the one drawn to the study of human behavior.

“Existential therapy doesn’t sound like something you’d like, though.” Makoto ponders and Haru tsks.

“I don’t like everything about it but I can’t deny that some things are true, and useful,” he pauses, drums his fingers on the phone and Makoto grimaces at the sound carried through the line. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay but try not to do that again. It sounds like hell.” Makoto gives up on sitting and lies on the bench couching his head with his arm, phone pressed to his ear with his other hand.

“You helped me a lot back then,” Haru says that in a way that feels true, not over emotional and not lacking emotion either. It makes Makoto smile a little as he closes his eyes.

“Well…you did help me too. Nagisa, Rei and Rin helped a lot, though. Kou, Nitori. You know, all our friends. Helped us see that there were more people around us.”

Haru doesn’t answer for a while. He’s thinking about high school and about how things were before the world opened up for them. It was narrow, dark. Things had lost meaning for him. They had dealt with near death experiences, had a taste of how abandonment felt. He wonders what would have happened if not for their friends and shudders.

“We wouldn’t be here without them, that’s for sure.”

“I’ve heard that New York is really cool so it’d be a pity.” Haru snorts and Makoto opens his eyes and stretches his arm, looks at the sun through his fingers.

“Tokyo isn’t bad either you nerd,” it was weird, at first, to listen to Haru crack more jokes than often. He started talking more, opened up. Remembering it feels strange because Haru’s still closed-off seeming. He’s reserved and has a frightening and discouraging monotonous tone of voice that can be annoying when you still don’t get his personality, but that’s how he is. He has the strangest sense of humor too and now that he shows it more often it feels refreshing. Makoto titters, stretches and gets an idea. It’s sudden, but it’s okay. He likes it, likes being spontaneous once in a while.

“I was thinking about meeting up and now something came to my mind,” Haru doesn’t answer, takes out his papers with deadlines and other important dates and shuffles through them while Makoto gathers his thoughts “Have you ever been to France?”

“You know that I haven’t,” Makoto snorts and ruffles his hair as Haru drums his fingers on the mattress and squints at the long list of projects he has due that month “I’m free on July. Is that okay?”

Makoto is free on July too and he grins, resting his hand on his stomach.

“I’m free on July too. So…Paris?” Haru dabs his nose, rolling the idea around in his head. They usually meet at Iwatobi during holidays but a change could do them good, he guesses. Have some time for them, for a change. And he likes the idea of Paris, sounds like a calm and a bit lazy plan now that he has the money to fly there.

“That sounds good. Do you know how to speak French?” Makoto’s snort is answer enough for him and he finds himself chortling, shaking his head at Makoto even though he can’t see him. “You should be thankful I can speak English, Makoto.”

“Oh, I am. Remember that one time I tried to talk to that exchange student and she thought that I was having a panic attack and almost called an ambulance?” Haru laughs at that, head thrown back and body shaking. He remembers that story and then some, told over the phone or under some blankets at Iwatobi, taking a walk around town or just goofing around wherever. That one story is from way back, when they were first year students and things were so new and bright that it was difficult to look at them “Shut it, Haru. You didn’t do better that year.”

He stops laughing and breaths deeply through his nose, a smile still on his lips as his fingers tap the phone softly enough for it to not startle Makoto with a sudden noise.

“But I’ve learned, unlike someone I know,” he says, with a hint of seriousness in his voice, teasing him. Makoto whines but doesn’t contradict him “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too. How long has it been? Three years?” it both feels as way more than that or way less, Makoto is never sure of how much time has passed since they decided that dating was worth a try. Apparently, it was worth more than that. They’re comfortable with how they’re handling their relationship and, most of all, are happy. Both of them understand why it couldn’t have started during high school, can see how unhealthy some things could have been if they hadn’t opened up to the world. It’s okay, they don’t duel on time wasted because there’s none.

“Yes, three years give or take,” Haru leans back on his bed and shuffles until he’s comfortable “What time is it there, anyway? Shouldn’t you be eating or panicking about essays?”

Makoto snorts, covers his face with his hand and starts laughing. He laughs until his stomach starts to hurt a bit and he feels out of breath with Haru’s own quite laughter in his ear. He threatens to hang up on him a couple of times but when he calms down, fighting to get some air in his lungs, Haru’s still there.

**Author's Note:**

> (This work will probably be orphaned in the near future but not deleted.)


End file.
